Defending the Island: A story of Bar Harbor in 1758

Otis James

Defending the Island: A story of Bar Harbor in 1758

CHAPTER I

THE ISLAND

In the year of grace 1758 there were two families living on that island which we of to-day call Mount Desert; but Champlain named Mons Deserts, because its thirteen high, rugged mountains could be seen from the seaward a distance of twenty leagues, making it the first landmark of the coast for seamen.

It is said, by those gentlemen who write down historical facts for us young people to study, that the "savages were much attached to the island; for in the mountains they hunted bears, wildcats, raccoons, foxes, and fowls; in the marshes and natural meadows, beaver, otter and musquash; and in the waters they took fin and shellfish."

Now in the proper kind of a story there should be nothing which savors of school-book study, and yet, before telling how the children of these two families defended the island in 1758, it seems much as if the reader would have a better idea of all that was done, if he or she knew just a few facts concerning those who lived on Mount Desert before Stephen Pemberton and Silas Harding took there their wives and children to build for themselves homes.

It is said, by those who busy themselves with finding out about such things, that in the year 1605 Champlain stopped at the island and named it; but not until four years later did any white people visit the place. Then two Jesuit missionaries, who had been living at Port Royal, under the protection of Monsieur Biencourt, went to Mount Desert with the hope of converting the Indians to Christianity.

How long these good men lived there, no one seems to know; but it is certain that they went back to Port Royal quite soon, because, in the year 1613, a Frenchman, by the name of La Suassaye, the agent of Madame de Guercheville, a very rich and religious lady, visited Port Royal, and persuaded the missionaries to return to Mount Desert, in company with several French colonists.

An Englishman by the name of Argall, who had come across the ocean to drive away the French people from North America, in order to take possession of the country in the name of his king, found the settlers while they were yet living in tents, not having had time to build houses. He robbed them of all their goods, afterward sending them adrift in an open boat, to make certain they wouldn't encroach on the land to which he believed they had no claim.

The French people, after suffering severely, contrived to gain the mainland, however, and before many months had passed returned to Mount Desert, where they formed a settlement, which did not survive the encroachments of the Indians, as is known from the fact that when, in 1704, the great Indian fighter from Massachusetts, Major Benjamin Church, rendezvoused at Mount Desert, before attacking the Baron de Castine on Penobscot Bay, he found no person living there.

In 1746 Stephen Pemberton and Silas Harding, with their wives, who were sisters, and their children, emigrated from England to Acadia, in Nova Scotia, hoping there to make better homes for themselves and their little ones than could be had in their native land. Then came the quarrels between the French and English, until Acadia was not a very pleasant land in which to live, and these two settlers determined to find an abiding-place where they might not be literally overrun by the soldiers of two armies.

Therefore it was that they built a small vessel, in which they could carry all their household belongings, including two cows, three or four pigs, and a flock of chickens, and started on a voyage that did not come to an end until they were arrived at the island of Mount Desert, near the mouth of what is now known as Duck Brook, within a short distance of the present town of Bar Harbor.

There the men built two small houses of logs, enclosed by a palisade, which is a high fence formed by driving stakes into the ground, for protection against the Indians, whom they had every reason to fear.

Here the two families lived in peace and comparative comfort until the year 1758, and then there were children in plenty.

Stephen Pemberton had in his family Mark, who was fifteen years old; Luke, two years younger; Mary, aged eleven and John, a stout lad of eight years.

Silas Harding's children were Susan, who was fourteen years old; Mary, four years younger, and James, who had lived seven years on Mount Desert without having seen ten white people, save those belonging to his own and Uncle Stephen Pemberton's family.

Now after so many words which have not been strung together in a very entertaining fashion, it is time to begin the story of what was done by these children, with, as a matter of course, some assistance from their mothers.

Each summer, just before the work of harvesting should be begun, the two men went out in the boat which had brought them from Acadia, to catch fish enough for the winter's supply, and on this year they set off early in September, with never a thought that any danger might menace their dear ones after so many years of peace and comparative prosperity.

The children had work in plenty to keep them from idleness during the week of ten days their fathers might be absent, and no sooner had the little vessel sailed out of the harbor than they set about their several tasks in order that all the labor might be performed by the time the fishermen returned.

Mark and Luke were engaged in setting up the flakes, or framework, on which the fish were to be dried, and this labor was performed near the shore of the harbor quite beyond sight of the homesteads with the high palisade, which last hid from view all save the roofs of the buildings.

The Future Hopes, which was the name of the small vessel belonging to the settlers, had left her moorings when the first gray light of the coming day could be seen stealing over the waters, and while she was yet close in-shore the two lads set about building the flakes, counting on completing the task within three days, and to that end working so industriously as to give little or no heed to what might be passing around them.

Therefore it was that they failed to see a canoe, in which were five Indians, come swiftly up from the southward, past what is now known as Pulpit Rock, and sail straight for the island at the mouth of the harbor, which the people of to-day call Bar Island.

Here the frail craft was hidden from view of the boys, and when half an hour or more had gone by, another canoe, this one carrying six men, executed the same maneuver.

Five minutes later a third craft appeared, but just as she came in view past the rock, Luke stood erect to drive in one of the stakes, and, therefore, saw the strangers as they were evidently trying to steal by without being seen.

More than once since Luke could remember had Mount Desert been visited by red men of the Abenakis tribe; but the visitors had always approached boldly, like friends, and this skulking from rock to island seemed much like a show of enmity.

Certain it is that the lad was alarmed, but he understood, from what his father had said many times, that it was not wise to let the Indians know of his fear, and, continuing at the labor, he said, in a low tone, to Mark:

"Don't raise your head, nor look around. A canoe filled with Abenakis has sneaked in behind the harbor island; can it be mischief is intended?"

"They may be after rock-cod, and count on coming ashore later," Mark replied, continuing his work in such a fashion that he could look seaward without seeming to do so.

At this moment the occupants of the last canoe were moving around the point of the island, as if to gain a position where a full view of the buildings might be had, for there could be no possibility the visitors were engaged in fishing, of any other such peaceful pursuit.

"There's trouble of some kind, and it's for us to find out what," Mark said, in a whisper. "There must have been other canoes than the one you saw, for I have already counted eleven men on the island, and they could not all have come in a single boat."

The boys had had no experience, fortunately for them, in Indian warfare, but they had heard enough from their parents to be fully alive to the possibilities, and after a few moments, during which time fear had held them speechless, Mark said, in a low tone, although there was no chance the enemy could have heard him:

"We must get over to the house without seeming to be running away. You start first, and when you go through the gate, call out that mother wants to see me."

Luke obeyed leisurely, although his heart was beating so loudly and heavily that it seemed as if it could be heard a long distance away, and, arriving at the palisade, he summoned his brother, as had been proposed.

Then it was that Mark was at liberty to leave his work, and he answered the summons more quickly, perhaps, than ever before in his life.

Mistress Pemberton was busily engaged inside the house, and the other two children were in a small garden directly in the rear of the building, therefore the boys were able to impart the disagreeable tidings without alarming those who could be of little or no assistance.

"Indians skulking on the harbor island!" the good woman exclaimed, when Mark had hurriedly told his story and her face paled as the lads had never seen it before.

"And they have chanced to come on the very day our father went fishing!" Luke cried.

"It wasn't chance that brought them, my son. Unless coming for some evil purpose, they would have landed boldly, as they have done so many times. It must be that the painted wretches have been watching to learn when your father and uncle left the island! Ask your aunt and Susan to come over her; the other children need not be told until it is no longer possible to hold them in ignorance of what may be done."

Luke ran swiftly to the house, which stood hardly more than fifty feet away, and in a twinkling Mistress Harding and her daughter Susan were where they could hear what, to settlers in their situation, was the worst possible news.

Women who did their share in conquering the wilderness were not cowardly, even though they might turn pale with apprehension when the first note of danger was sounded, and there two, knowing it was useless to expect aid from the outside, lost no time in planning a defence.

The palisade was weak in many places; more than one of the timbers had decayed and fallen, for while the Indians from the near-by mainland were friendly disposed, there seemed to be no good reason why time and labor should be expended upon a means of defence which might never be needed, and at this moment both the women bethought themselves of such fact.

"There may be time in which to strengthen the fence," Mistress Harding suggested, and Mark, who considered himself as well-nigh being a man grown, took the part of leader by saying, stoutly:

"In can be done, aunt. Luke and I will get the timbers, and the other children shall drag them out of the woods, coming into the enclosure near the spring where the Indians cannot see them."

"But surely we can do something to help the work along," his mother said, quickly.

"So you shall. We must know what the Indians are about, and you two can take one of the small boys down near the shore. Stay there as if bent on pleasuring, and, without seeming to do so, keep a sharp watch on the harbor island. I will look after the rest."

Boys who lived on the frontier in 1758 were accustomed to doing the work of men, and very seldom was one found to be a coward.

Now that danger in its most frightful form menaced, Mark Pemberton understood that he must stand in the place of his father and uncle. And there was no disposition on his part to shirk the responsibility. He knew full well that there was no hope the fishermen would return for at least a full week, therefore he must work unaided, save as the women and other children might be able to help him.

The axes were near at hand; Mary Pemberton and Ellen Harding were summoned from the garden, and the two younger boys sent with their mothers to the shore.

As the five young people went into the thicket, which had been left standing in the rear of the dwellings that it might serve to break the force of the north winds in the winter, the younger girls learned of the painted peril on the harbor island, and Mark explained his plan of defence, so far as he had formed one.

The two boys set about their task feverishly, knowing that every moment was precious, for no one could say when the attack might be made; the only matter certain in the minds of all was that the Indians had come bent on mischief, otherwise there would have been no skulking on the island.

The palisade, as originally built, stood six feet above the surface of the land, and the posts were driven a good four feet into the ground, therefore large timbers were necessary, and perhaps Mark was the only member of the party who realized that when the work of driving the logs in place was begun, the enemy would have a very good idea of what was being done.

The skulkers on the island must, as a matter of course, know that they were discovered, and their purpose suspected, otherwise the defences would not be in process of strengthening when the boys should have been making ready for the curing of such fish as the fishermen might bring in.1

Then was the moment when, possibly, the attack would be made, and all preparations for resistance concluded before the first blow was struck on the palisade.

"There will be a moon to-night," Susan Harding said, quietly, and Mark knew she was thinking of what might be expected after the sun had set, therefore he replied, to encourage her:

"Ay, Sue, the painted villains can't come across without showing themselves for some time before gaining the beach, and Luke and I should be able to warm their hides a bit."

"I can shoot as well as you."

"So you can, Sue and the worst part of it is that you must do your share of the work."

"Will you watch on the shore for them to-night?"

"I think so. Luke and I can be there, while the rest of you are inside."

"I shall go with you," and the girl spoke as if demanding a part in some scheme of pleasure.

"Perhaps you can; we'll see what the plan shall be when night comes. The fence may not be in shape then, and I'm hoping the Indians will hold off for a darker night. That's about the only chance we've got to save ourselves from being killed, or carried prisoners to Canada."

"If they had landed on this island, they might have crept up without our suspecting anything," Susan suggested, and Mark literally trembled with fear, for thought came to his mind that possibly another body of savages was on Mount Desert, counting on coming up through the thicket when the attack was begun.

However, as he said to himself a moment later, after struggling manfully against this new fear which assailed him, that was a matter which could not be guarded against, other than as the general defences were strengthened, and it stood him in hand to think of work rather than all which might happen.

"Remember, I'm to take my place with you and Luke," Susan insisted, and the lad, knowing she could be depended upon to use a musket nearly as well as himself, replied:

"So you shall, Sue; I promise to call on you as I would on Luke. Here is the first timber," he added, as he struck the finishing blows to the sharpened end of the log. "Drag it inside to the weakest place in the fence, and take good care that you don't go where any one on the harbor island can see you."2

Aided by Mary and Ellen, the stout-hearted girl set about the task of carrying the heavy log, since that would be the quickest method of getting it into place, and the boys plied their axes yet more vigorously in order to have another timber in readiness when the carriers returned.

"Take nothing smaller than six inches through the butt, and we'll drive the tapering end into the ground," Mark cried, cheerily, as he selected a second tree, and Luke had but just finished hewing his log when the girls came for another load.

"I ran down to talk with mother and aunt," Susan said, speaking with difficulty because of her heavy breathing. "They have seen only one Indian, who lies behind the big rock keeping watch, and he is Sewattis, who came here for potatoes last winter."

"And we gave him all he could carry away!" Mark exclaimed bitterly. "Now he has come to try and murder us because we have ever been his good friends."

"Is there any war on the mainland?" Susan asked.

"The captain of the last fishing-vessel father boarded told him that an attack had been made by the French and Indians on the fort at St. George last month, so I suppose England and France are still fighting. If the two kings could be in our places just now, I reckon there'd be an end of the war before nightfall."

"It isn't three months since Master Peabody and his wife were killed on Arrowsick Island, and the six children carried into Canada," Luke suggested, grimly, and Mark cried, peremptorily:

"Don't be digging up every horrible thing you can remember, for it won't improve our courage, and we're like to need all we've got between now and sunset. Here's another timber, Sue. Before you come back again, get some idea of how many we're needing to put the fence in shape."

Luke would have talked of the murders which had been reported to the settlers of the island by the fishermen, who were spoken from time to time; but Mark bade him keep at his chopping, and in silence the two worked until Susan, after an unusually long absence, returned.

"There are seventeen logs missing," she reported, "and two more which are decayed so badly that they should be replaced. I walked slowly around the fence, and tried every one, to make certain it stood firm."

"We should be able to cut that number and get them in place before the afternoon is very old," Mark replied, as he swung his axe yet more vigorously. "Did you go down to the shore?"

"Yes, and everything there is as it was before. Your mother thinks it is a wicked waste of time for both to stay on guard, when it would be possible for them to do so much toward helping in getting out the timbers."

"The moment will soon come when she can lend a hand, but just now she is doing more good by staying where she is, for while those two are idle the Indians will not suspect that we are strengthening our defences. The other boys might help in dragging the logs down, Sue, for we've got five or six ready."

"Mary and I, with Ellen to steady them through the bushes, can soon catch up with you, and the boys would be more bother than good," Susan replied, as she raised one end of a heavy timber.

During the next hour the five young people worked as industriously as their elders could have done, and then Susan announced that her mother was intending to make ready the noonday meal, for it was in the highest degree necessary that those who were laboring so energetically, and who would be called upon, perhaps, to spend the night in watching, should have an ample supply of food.

The boys ate dinner as they worked, Ellen bringing it out to them, and, while Mistress Harding cooked for both families, Mistress Pemberton remained on guard.

During all that time very little had been learned regarding the savages. Now and then a painted face had been seen momentarily from behind one of the rocks on the harbor island; but nothing more, and the defenders of the stockade had no means of knowing when the attack might be expected.

It was about two hours past noon when the boys had cut the necessary number of timbers, and now was come the time when the enemy would get an inkling that the settlers were making ready to defend themselves.

"You can't help us very much, Sue, when we are driving the posts into place," Mark said. "Leave Ellen here, while you overhaul our muskets. See to it that each one is loaded, and where we can get at it readily. After that has been done, you had best stand by the gateway to give the work if any move is made by the villains."

Then the boys began the task of setting the timbers in place, fearing each instant to hear the word that the savages were crossing over from the small island.

When the third timber had been driven in place, Mark said, grimly, as he raised another stick to fit it into the palisade:

"If they come now, we shall be in a bad scrape; but in case they are foolish enough to wait until after dark, I reckon we can give a good account of ourselves."

In order to drive the logs sufficiently deep into the earth, to prevent the possibility of their being pulled out by the foe, it was necessary for one of the boys to stand on an up-ended cask, and while in suck position a view of the tiny island at the mouth of the harbor could readily be had.

It was Mark who swung the heavy wooden maul, or mallet, and he strove to keep his eyes fixed upon that point of land behind which he knew the Indians lurked.

To his great relief, no change was apparent in the position of the enemy, although those in hiding must have known what was being done, and the boys worked unmolested.

After she had make ready the muskets for immediate use, Susan stationed herself at the gateway of the palisade, with a weapon leaning against the logs on the inside, watching intently, and after half an hour had passed Mark called to her:

"There's little chance now that they'll begin the mischief before dark, if the noise of our pounding hasn't started them. Mother and aunt may come back here and do some more cooking, for once the Abenakis begin work we shall need to have all hands on duty. You can keep an eye on the island from where you are."

This change was welcomed by the women, who came up from the shore quickly, stopping at the palisade to see how the lads were getting along, when Mistress Pemberton said to Mark:

"I have been thinking that we had better gather in one of the buildings which can be barricaded on the inside, instead of trying to occupy both."

"It's a good idea, mother dear, and while you're making the changes, see to it that we have plenty of water in the house."

"What about the cows?"

"We can't take the chances of going after them, for no one can say that there are not more Indians hidden in the woods. If the beasts come home, we'll have a mess of milk to help out on the supplies."

Now it was that every member of the two families was actively engaged, while Susan stood guard at the gateway.

The Harding house was stripped of everything which could be readily moved, and the rude furniture served admirably as a barricade for the windows and one door of the Pemberton dwelling.

The sun had not set when Mark had put the palisade into the best condition possible with the materials at his command, and then, after cautioning Susan to keep her eyes open very wide, the two boys began making loopholes in the house which was to shelter both families. This last was being done, as Mark explained to his mother, that they might have a final place of refuge in case the Indians succeeded in scaling the palisade.

CHAPTER II

THE FIRST ASSAULT

Not until the shadows of night were beginning to lengthen was Susan relieved from guard duty, and then the gate had been closed and barred by Mark, who said to his cousin:3

"There is little chance an attack will be made until after night has come, when they count on finding us asleep, mayhap, although it would be queer people who could close their eyes in rest while a crowd of men was waiting for a good opportunity to kill them."

"Why am I to go off duty?" Susan asked. "Surely it can do us no harm to stand guard, and even though the savages do not make any move, we should act as if believing they might do so at any moment."

"You are right, Sue, and I warrant you won't have many idle minutes. Your mother and mine want all the children together while they pray for the good God to help us, and surely He is the only one to whom we can appeal now."

The girl made no further parley, but marched directly toward the Pemberton house, stopping very suddenly, however, as a low sound, not unlike the call of a human being, was heard from the woods in the rear of the dwellings.

"There are the cows, Mark, and surely they must be brought inside the enclosure if for no other reason than that we may need the milk before those murderers – "